


The Beauty of a Beast

by murdochinthetardis



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Supernatural
Genre: AU, Animal Attacks, Beauty and the Beast AU, Bi!Dean, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, In a way, Minor Character Death, Other, Past Child Abuse, au where lucifer has a stable family relationship and isn't a dick, beast!Gabriel, bi!Balthazar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-02-27 20:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13255800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdochinthetardis/pseuds/murdochinthetardis
Summary: Cursed with a monstrous appearance to match his monstrous behaviour, the prince Gabriel remains hidden in his palace. If he doesn't find love and have love returned by the time the last petal of an enchanted rose falls, he will remain a beast forever. Little does he know, the castle has a new guest: you.A Gabriel x reader fic set in a Beauty and the Beast au (based off both the original animated film as well as the live action one).Art by nobodys-baby-now (http://nobodys-baby-now.tumblr.com/)





	1. Aria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uninvited guest at the prince’s party sets things into motion, a father and his child head to a new home in a small town

 

 

[Aria - Beauty and the beast (song)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UoYZOA99aRk&list=PLIaHQuTRrdM-zGWgOdMTwnucLmbFih3rf&index=3)

**Words: 1000+**

 

"Done. You look wonderful, sir."

The prince admired his reflection in the ornate mirror, his eyes matching the gold that adorned the rose bush styled edges. It was a fine mirror, worth more that the average person earned in a year, yet it was one of the most simple things in the room.

Candles flickered, lighting the room and keeping the darkness of night at bay. Raindrops hit the glass windows, a rhythmic pattern that mimicked the pace of someone running for their life.

Balthazar took a step back, also admiring his work. Today was a big day, and the prince needed to look his best.

The prince waved his hand. "More light." He ordered.

Balthazar picked up the candlestick, moving it onto the dresser so the prince could see his visage better. "My apologies, sir. But you do look fantastic with any level of light."

Another servant ran in. He panted, trying to catch his breath.

"Charles, what it the meaning of you interrupting me?" The prince asked coldly.

Chuck gulped. "I'm sorry, sir. But it's time for you to make an appearance. The guests have been waiting for you for-" He checked the watch in his pocket before sliding it back out of sight. "-An hour now, sir."

"You can't rush perfection." Balthazar quipped.

"You wouldn't know perfection if it hit you in the face." Chuck said. His master raised an eyebrow. "Th-though you do look a-amazing, my prince!" He stuttered.

The prince strutted out of his room, making his way through twisting staircases and long decorated hallways to the ballroom.

The finest men and women awaited him, chattering amongst themselves, gossiping and betting who the prince would choose for a suitor.

It had to be the finest, for the young royal. The finest clothing, the finest servants, the finest castle. Appearance was everything, and he would maintain it, no matter how high taxes had to be hiked.

A wave of his hand, and the music began. The prince changed from dance partner to dance partner, judging each one as he moved.

Too tall. Too handsy. Too much of this, too little of that. None were good enough for his taste, but he kept dancing.

Lightning flashed outside, thunder shook the chandeliers. The storm outside wasn't slowing down and neither was the party.

A large gust of wind blew the front doors wide open. Half the lamps went out, plunging the room into almost a complete darkness. The prince grabbed a candelabra from Chuck, making his way to the entrance to investigate.

A cloaked figure was hunched over the floor. An old woman looked up, her grey hair falling over her eyes in thin strands. She raised her hand, offering something to the prince.

"A rose," She spoke, hint of an accent that was out of place in Paris. "For shelter from the storm."

The prince took the beautiful red flower from the crone's wrinkled hand. He laughed. He threw his head back and laughed at the the pitiful sight before him. Some joined in on the laughter, mocking the poor woman.

"Hag. Is this the most valuable thing you have to offer me?" The prince asked. He threw the rose to his feet, the velvet petals scattering. "Begone."

"Hag? Beauty is but skin deep, Gabriel." She replied. "Please, let me stay-"

How did she know his name? No, every villager knew who the prince was. Gabriel gritted his teeth. "I said, begone!"

Something in the old woman's eyes changed. She stared the prince down, rising to her feet... and above the ground.

The cloak slipped away and a bright golden light surrounded the woman- no longer a hag, but a young sorceress, red curls flowing around her head as if she were under water.

Guests were fleeing out of every exit, terrified of what could happen should they stay. Gabriel fell to he's knees, he either couldn't or just wouldn't move.

"Vain prince," The sorceress said, her voice echoing around the palace. "There is nothing in your heart but arrogance and greed."

"I can take it back, you can stay-"

"It's too late. I see who you truly are inside. But your exterior doesn't match." The woman spoke, her words cold and calm. "I'll fix that."

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but only a groan of agony came out. He looked down at his nails lengthening and hardening into claws, brown and gold fur growing at an alarming rate on his skin. It felt as if someone was dragging a pair of knives down his back.

The prince grew, doubling in size, silhouette contorting. Screams and groans turned to howls and roars. It was terrifying to watch and agony to experience.

His servants looked on in horror.

"You all remain? Foolish or loyal, it matters not. His curse is your curse too."

Gabriel couldn't see what was happening to his staff. Even if he could, he was far more concerned with his own wellbeing.

"This is only the beginning," The sorceress explained. In her hands was the rose, now softly glowing. "Your people will forget you. Your servants will be trapped here with you. And you, will remain in this hideous form until the last petal of this rose falls."

She placed it on the ground, looking into eyes that had been human a simple second ago. "Learn to love before then. Learn to give, and care for someone who is not yourself. If the love is returned, the curse will lift."

The sorceress walked to the exit, lifting her black hood over her head again. "But who could ever learn to love a beast?"

 

* * *

 

You stirred in your sleep, jumping when thunder struck again. The carriage jostled, shaking you awake.

"Hey, it's just rain. Get some sleep, darlin'." Your father reassured you. "We're almost there."

Your eyelids drooped again. Your body tried to fight against sleep. "Play it again for me, papa?"

Bobby smiled, opening the small music box again. "Last time. Okay?"

You nodded, leaning against your father to use his chest as a pillow.

The tune played and Bobby hummed along.

You slowly fell asleep, dreaming of dancing, magic, and roses.


	2. How Does a Moment Last Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go about your routine day in the village, Dean follows and flirts, Bobby prepares to leave
> 
> Words: 1500+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that Dean and Sam are a bit OOC in this au, same with Gabriel at the start

 

[[Belle (song)](https://youtu.be/egQbaDRMxGI)]

 

The day started off as any other. The village was quiet, with a certain anticipation hanging in the air. Soon people would be walking the streets, doing business and going about their daily tasks.

This time of the day was your favourite. The sky still had touches of dawn’s pink hues. Everything was still. Everything was quiet.

You slipped your shoes on, running through a mental checklist of what you had to do today. The silence because a whisper, a whisper became conversation, conversation soon became the regular chatter of the town. Grabbing a basket, you stepped outside.

The wooden steps creaked slightly as you stepped down them. The morning dew was resting on the grass in your garden. You passed through your garden and stepped onto the busy street.

Mothers chased after their children, those children chased each other, giggling. Sweethearts walked arm in arm, gazing into eachothers eyes. Women collected water from the well or did laundry. Wagons rolled through, carrying goods to be sold in the market.

People were doing business there. Selling, buying, the usual.

That reminded you where you had to be going and snapped you out of your daydream. It seemed like daydreaming was all you did these days. Yes, the town you lived in felt wonderful, but it also felt… familiar. Too familiar. Too regular. Too repetitive. The same thing each day.

“Careful, chief!” Came a laugh.

You narrowly dodged the large figure with calloused and flour-covered hands carrying a tray of baked goods.

“Sorry, Benny.” You apologized. “The usual, please.”

“Right here.” Benny grinned, lowering the tray. “Fresh from the oven for my favourite customer.”

You took a couple loaves of bread and smiled, placing them in your basket before handing over some coins to Benny. “Thanks, bear.”

“No problem at all. Where ya headed?” The baker asked.

“To the library. I have a book to return.” You replied.

“Damn, already?” Benny chuckled. “Gotta be the third time already you’ve read the one you’ve got.”

You shrugged, returning the laugh. You looked at the book. Its cover was a crimson red, with gold lettering spelling out ‘Romeo and Juliet’. “Fourth, actually. I have most of it memorized.”

“Et tu, Brute?”

“That’s Julius Caesar.”

“Eh, it’s still Shakespeare. Close enough, eh?” Benny offered.

You laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Points for trying.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna hold you up. See you ‘round.” Benny smiled, tipping his cap at you.

“See you, bear.” You said.

Benny continued on his way back to the bakery. You continued on yours, right to the small broom closet of a building called the library.

The place was a home away from home. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, ladders on each end to reach the high ones. It had a certain smell to it. Wood mixed with parchment and candle wax.

The books themselves were very old and worn. Some were missing covered, others had writing so faded you couldn’t tell text from paper.

Gadreel, the librarian, did his best to keep things tidy. He himself was out of place in there. His tall frame barely fit at the small desk in the small room. The books around him were ten times older than he was. Still, reading was a passion the two of you alone shared.

“Y/N. It is very nice to see you again.” Gadreel greeted. He was seated at that little desk, a quill in hand. Most likely cataloging again.

You nodded and set your book down on his desk. “Done.”

“So soon?”

“Yep.”

“I see.” The tone of the librarian’s voice was a little astonished. “I am afraid I have no new books this week. However you are-”

He had barely said these words when you were halfway up a ladder.

“-Welcome to reread another one.” He finished.

You picked up a couple and added them to your basket. “Thanks, Gad!”

“Of course. Enjoy.” Gadreel said with a smile and returned to his work.

You stepped outside, ready to continue with your chores.

 

* * *

 

“You’re staring, Dean.” Sam said. He lifted his hair up, tying it back into a ponytail. Riding always did a number on his mane.

“I know.” Dean hummed. “Gorgeous, huh?”

“Out of your league.” Sam added, rolling his eyes.

The Winchester brothers watched you stop from shop to shop, buying the things you needed.

Dean Winchester was the eldest. He was a renowned hunter and a ladies man. Every woman in the village wanted to sleep with him, even a few men, but Dean had his sights set on you: the only one who didn’t love him.

Sam Winchester was the youngest. He was always close by his brother and always living in his shadow. Their father was hard to impress.

“Doesn’t matter. I like a challenge.” Dean grinned. “Y/N is the one for me.”

“When’s the last time you read a book?” Sam asked his older brother.

Dean shrugged. “Who knows, who cares. Books won’t win them over. My rugged good looks will.”

“What looks?” Sam snorted.

Dean smacked his brother upside the head, a difficult feat as Sam was quite a bit taller than him. “Shut up.”

“Yes, Dean…” Sam mumbled.

“Jealous, Sammy?” Dean asked with a chortle. “It’s not my fault you can’t score a woman. Well, I’m sure Rowena’s single.” Dean often taunted his brother with that, saying that the only one Sam would end up with was the red haired beggar woman.

Dean strutted over to a flower stand and grabbed a bouquet. “Watch and learn, little brother.”

“Dean you have to-” Sam started before his brother walked off into the crowd and towards you. Sam sighed and took out some coins, handing them to the less than happy florist. “Pay for those…”

 

* * *

 

“Y/N!”

You groaned. Dean again. All he did was flirt with you and ignore your refusals. “Dean…”

The oh-so-great-hunter jogged up to you, ran his fingers through his hair, and pushed the flowers into your face. “For you. They match your eyes.”

“Uh… actually they don’t.” You replied, gently handing them back to Dean.

“Could I join you for dinner?” Dean asked, his typical grin on his face.

“No, Dean.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“I said no.” You replied, gritting your teeth. “Learn what that means.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” The hunter purred. “Someone your age really should settle down, find a spouse. You’re in your prime, young, beautiful… just like me.”

You scoffed. “I am nothing like you, Dean.” You replied, slowly backing up the steps leading to your front door.

Dean followed, leaning in closer. “You don’t want to end up alone, like Rowena.” He argued.

“Well A: Rowena is actually a nice person. Maybe actually talk to her for once? And B: I’m not alone. I have my father.” You snapped.

Dean laughed. “You can’t be serious. Your father? He’s a crazy old man.”

That comment made you snap. You grabbed the door handle for support and raised your foot, kicking Dean square in the chest. He fell back, landing on his ass.

“Don’t you dare talk to my father that way.” You spat, slamming the door in his face.

Life with Dean sounded like Hell. You didn’t like him at all. He was old fashioned, rude, and egoistic.

 

* * *

[[How Does a Moment Last Forever (song)](https://youtu.be/KZkNgfvBdY8)]

 

“Everythin’ alright?” A voice asked.

You sighed. “Yes, pa.”

“Don’t you lie to me. I know when you’re lying.” Bobby noted. “What’s bothering you? Who do I have to give a piece of my mind to?”

“Pa? Do you think I’m weird?” You asked.

Bobby took off his glasses, folded them neatly before setting them on the table beside his tools. “Weird? What makes you ask that, sweetheart?”

“People in this town give me weird looks.” You mumbled. “Like I don’t belong.”

“Y/N, you ain’t weird. This is just a small town. People talk about everyone. You’re just…” Your father paused, looking for the right word. “Unique. You stand out, but in a good way. You keep being you, and don’t you regret it.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Pa. How’s the clock?”

“Just about ready for the fair, I’d say.” Bobby replied.

The latest music box Bobby was working on for the little craftsman’s fair a few towns over was, to put it lightly, beautiful. The outside was wooden, little carvings of branches in the corners. When opened, it played a sweet tune that your father used to sing to you when you were a child. A little blue metal bird perched on a little wooden branch, it’s wings and beak slowly opening and closing.

Bobby stood and hugged you. “I’ll miss you.”

“It’s just a couple days…” You chuckled. “But I’ll miss you too.”

“Anything you want while I’m there?” He asked.

You pretended to think it over, knowing what your answer always was. “A rose. Just like last year. Bring me back a rose, Pa.”

Bobby grinned. “Of course. A rose just for you.”

 

* * *

Deep in the woods, hidden away from the world, was another rose. And from this rose, another petal fell.


	3. A White Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby Singer seeks shelter in a seemingly abandoned castle and finds more than he expected
> 
> Words: 1400+

Bobby pulled his hat down further as the rain grew heavier. The wind whipped around him, fast and unrelenting. It was hard to see further than the ends of the reigns.

"C'mon, Philippe, just a little further." Bobby said softly. "I'll get you somethin' to eat as soon as we get there."

Philippe, Bobby's snow white horse, was not at all comforted. His steps seemed anxious and he kept whinnying.

The path before Bobby was unfamiliar. It didn't take too long to realize he was lost. "Balls..." he cursed. It was too late to turn back now, either that or he was too stubborn to. Most likely the latter.

The pair came to a fork in the road, two paths separated by a tall and large oak tree. The path on the right was a lot dryer, as trees lined it, their thick branches forming a canopy. The ground was even and clear of roots.

The path on the left was the kind you'd find in your nightmares. The trees were gnarled and dead, even in the middle of summer, giving them the appearance of hunched and clawed creatures. The ground rose and fell like a rough sea. Somehow, it was darker, perhaps even colder.

Your father wasn't an idiot. The path on the right seemed a lot safer. "We'll go this way," Bobby said, gently leading Philippe in that direction. "We'll be at the fair in no ti-"

A bolt of lightning shot from the sky, headed right to the middle tree as if guided by a careful hand. The trunk almost exploded, a loud crack sending it toppling, catching fire as it fell. The oak now blocked the right pathway.

The horse reared back to avoid the danger, almost shaking Bobby off the cart. "Balls!" He cursed again. "Balls, balls, balls!" The craftsman panted, staring at the flaming trunk in shock.

There was only one way apart from back, and Bobby sure as hell wasn't turning around. He wouldn't return without a gift for you, fair be dammed. "Left it is..." He grunted, guiding the cart to the dark and foreboding trail.

The rain grew fainter, whiter even. It was... snowing. It was snowing in the middle of France in the middle of summertime. Bobby's breath was visible now, the temperature dropping lower than what seemed naturally possible in such a short period of time. He pulled his coat tighter around his now shivering body.

The silence was cut with a howl, getting louder. Getting closer. Another howl from the other side of the path was returned.

Bobby urged Philippe to go faster. Either the cold or the wolves would kill them both.

Howls grew stronger and closer more. Glinting eyes peered out from the inky darkness behind the trees. A large grey wolf stepped out, baring its fangs and growling at the unwelcome strangers. It prepared to leap.

"SHIT!" Bobby yelled. The horse began to gallop. "Go go go!"

The wolves were gaining on them, not at all hindered by the rough terrain or frozen weather.

One of the cart's wheels fell into a hole, flinging the whole cart sideways. Bobby flew off, landing on the snowy ground and skidding to a halt. It was lucky he did, as the cart then hit a tree, smashing into bits and throwing its contents in every direction.

"Balls!" Bobby cursed again. His heart was pounding. If he didn't act quick, he was done for. As quickly as he could, he detatched what was left of the cart from Philippe and climbed on his back. Holding on as tight as he could, Bobby urged the steed forward.

In the distance was a clearing followed by a large rusted fence. It creaked open, as if by an unseen force. 'Just the wind, idiot.' Bobby thought to himself. This didn't assure him.

The horse and rider dashed through the now open gate followed by a pack of wolves. The predators skidded to a half at the entrance. They snarled one last time and turned, fleeing into the darkness.

Bobby's stomach flipped. What past that gate could be so bad a pack of rabid wolves wouldn't dare to approach?

The answer wasn't one the humble craftsman expected: A castle. A crumbling, snow covered palace with leering gargoyles and icicles that looked like they could pierce flesh hanging from window sills.

A light flashed and flickered in one of the tall, shattered windows. The castle wasn't entirely abandoned, it seemed. Not for there to be a fire lit.

Bobby climbed down and lead his horse to an empty stable. "Stay here, Philippe. I'm gonna... go say hi to our hosts..."

Singer walked cautiously up broken steps, raising his hand up to knock on the door. It opened before he could, the sound reverberating through the vast hallway.

"Hello?" Bobby called. His voice echoed. There was no reply or movement.

The inside of the palace was even more beautiful than the outside. A grand main staircase lead up, twisted into two different sections and went off higher to the east and west. Arches and columns held the high ceiling.

"I uh... got lost. Was wondering if I could stay here the night." He continued, walking towards the fireplace.

As he got closer, Bobby swore he could hear whispers.

" _Are you crazy?_ " hissed a voice. " _Do you know how much trouble we'd get in?_!"

Another faint whisper replied. " _Oh, where's your sense of adventure? It's a guest! We haven't had guests in-_ "

" _Never! We've never had guests. Not since-_ "

"Hello?" Bobby called again. "Is someone there?"

The whispers stopped.

Bobby's brow furrowed. Maybe it was too dark to see whoever was there. There had to be someone there...

A candelabra was on a table, its three candles lit and glowing with a soft light. The candelabra itself was beautiful. Gold- or at least gilded, it was like a statuette of a man. The end of each arm held a candle, as did the top of its head.

Next to it was a clock of polished wood and metallic details. It's face was interesting, unlike one the craftsman had ever seen. Lines of silver formed the eyes, nose, and mouth of a man. Simple, but incredible.

Bobby picked up the candelabra."Interesting little knick-knack..." He commented.

The eyes of the metal face opened, as did the mouth. "Knick-knack?!" It exclaimed.

Bobby dropped the candelabra. It talked. a figure of metal and wax no taller than his knee just... talked!

"Oh way to go, Balthazar!" A voice right in front of Bobby cried. It was the clock. The silver eyes glanced between the dropped candelabra and the craftsman. "Uh oh."

As soon as those words were spoken, Bobby raced to the door. He ran outside, racing down the crumbling steps to the stabled.

"Talking clocks and candles- damn place is haunted- Philippe! C'mon, we're going!" Bobby yelled.

Singer mounted the horse. He had to get out of this cursed place, even if it meant facing those wolves again. He had to get home to you.

However, something caught his eye. A garden that should be dead in this wintery landscape, yet bushes were in bloom. Rose bushes, stems and thorns twisting, petals as white as snow. Bobby had promised you a rose, and he never broke his promises to you.

"Quick detour. Won't take a minute." Bobby muttered to himself as he dismounted.

The man approached the bushes, searching in his pockets for something sharp to cut one off with. A little whittling knife was in his coat. That would do. Bobby reached towards a rose, careful not to prick himself. With a smooth flick of his wrist, he cut the stem.

A growl came from behind him, lower and more powerful that those of the wolves. "Thief." It roared.

Bobby turned, looking up at the looming, monstrous figure. He dropped the rose and knife in terror. A clawed hand grabbed his shirt and dragged him kicking and screaming back towards the castle.

 

 

You grumbled as you pulled weeds from your garden. Dean goddamn Winchester. Picturing him as your husband made you sick. You pulled another root from the ground and tossed it aside. His brother was no better. Sam just stood to the side and let his brother do what he wanted.

This village was home, but you felt like a stranger. You were different and that was made clear to you every day. You wanted more, needed more than this.

A whiney snapped you out of your thoughts. A white horse, its coat stained with mud galloped down the street towards your house. It was Philippe, only he pulled no cart behind him. He had no rider. Your father was gone.


	4. The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find Bobby imprisoned by a beast at a castle and prepare to make a large sacrifice.
> 
> Words: 1500+

You let Phillipe lead you where you needed to go. He raced down the snowy path with you on his back. He had to know where your father  was. You needed to find Bobby.

The midday sun slowly disappeared behind the foliage, casting many shadows and an unnatural darkness. Bobby had only left the evening before, he couldn’t have gone far.

Your journey ended at a castle in the middle of nowhere. Old, dark, and dangerous looking. This all went out the window. Red flags popping up in your mind were ignored. You needed to find your father, no matter where he was.

You rushed inside. “Hello? Pa? Can you hear me?” You cried.

It was silent until a cough echoed up from a staircase. Pausing only to grab a candelabra for lighting, you trekked down into the cellar.

Bobby sat shivering in a cell, coughing into his elbow. He looked tired, frightened, and sick. The cold weather of the area seemed to have taken a toll on him.

“Pa!” You cried, rushing to your father, placing the candelabra at your feet and kneeling at the cell bars in front of him.

Bobby’s head turned to face you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I came to find you!” You explained. “I’ve been so worried!”

“I understand, but you have to leave! Before he comes back!”

“I’m not leaving you here! I don’t care who he is!”

“Please, Y/N,” Bobby pleaded. “Go without me. The beast-”

“Is standing right here.” Another voice came. The speaker was shrouded in darkness.

Bobby’s eyes grew wide.

You stood and faced the stranger. “Who are you and why have you imprisoned my father.”

“He’s a thief.” It spoke, disregarding your first question. “He stole a rose from my garden.”

“A rose?!” You cried. “You’ve locked a sick man away because of a flower?!”

“It’s a light punishment compared to the eternal one I got for a rose.” The speaker replied.

You were infuriated. This person had the audacity to do this to your only living family member? And he wouldn’t even show his face.

“Come into the light.” You demanded.

“Y/N…” Bobby warned.

The figure moved into the faint light that shone from a small, dusty window in Bobby’s cell.

You gasped. The one who imprisoned your father was far from human.

It’s whole body was covered in thick fur, the colour of caramel, an almost golden shade of brown. The figure loomed over you, standing near seven feet tall.

Instead of feet there were paws, feline and tipped with claws. Its hands were almost the same, only slightly more human.

The feline aspect continued with a tail hanging between the creature’s legs. Long with a tuft of fur on the end, like a lion’s.

It wore a ripped pair of trousers, dark brown and ripped in many places. It wore no shoes or shirt, as it was clear it would be insanely difficult.

Out of the thing’s back jutted out wings, big enough to seem cramped in the hallway, tips of it touching the stone floor. The feathers ranged in colour from shades of yellow to gold to copper. Clumps were missing, and it appeared as if the word “preening” had never been uttered in the castle.

His hair was just as untidy, tangled locks reaching to his shoulders. Its ears were long and hug down, like a sheep or goats. Curled and intimidating horns extruded from its scalp, tips as sharp as his claws.

Its nose was flatter, more feline than a human’s. Fangs poked out from its top lip.

The only thing human about the Beast were his eyes. Amber, like honey from the market, or fine whiskey. But they were cold and cruel.

“Afraid of what you see?” He asked.

Slowly, you shook your head. “I’m not afraid of you.” You lied.

“Well then. Leave or you’ll die here too.” The beast said.

You shook your head again. “No. Let my father go.”

“Never-”

“Let him go and I’ll take his place!” You shouted.

“Y/N, are you crazy?!” Bobby yelled. “I ain’t leaving you!”

“I’m younger and healthier.” You continued. “Please, let him go, I’ll do anything! Eternal can spare a second!”

The Beast thought it over. “Fine.”

A clawed hand opened the door and the other snatched up the candelabra. You stepped in as Bobby hesitantly walked out.

“I’ll come back to get you.” Your father promised.

“Enough chit-chat.” The Beast growled. He grabbed Bobby by the collar and dragged him away and up the stairs.

You didn’t even bother to run after them. What would the point be? You couldn’t risk getting caught and both of you dying.

Tears streaming from your eyes, you closed the cell door. You sat in a corner and cried. Your father was gone and you wouldn’t see him again. You were trapped in this dark and cold castle with a beast. “I didn’t get to say goodbye…” You sobbed.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel sat at the long, empty dining room table. He picked at the meal in front of him with his claws.

“So…” Balthazar started. “We have a new guest.”

“Prisoner.” Gabriel muttered.

Balthazar rolled his metallic eyes. “Oh, give it a rest. They could be the one, if you give them a chance-”

“The child of a thief deserves no chances!” The Beast growled, slamming his fist down on the table.

“The child of a thief lost their father and their freedom in the same day!” Chuck added. “Balthazar is right for once.”

“They could be the one,” Castiel suggested. Gabriel looked over at the servant who had been cursed to have the white and blue ceramic form of a teapot. “But they most definitely will not be if you keep acting like this.”

 _“You’re acting like_ him _.”_  A voice in the back of Gabriel’s mind spoke.  _“You sound like_ him _. Is that what you’ve become? Your father?”_

The look in Gabriel’s eyes softened for a moment. “Fine. Get a room ready for the pris- for the guest.”

 

* * *

 

You raised your head as the cell door creaked open. The Beast stood at the entrance.

“Balthazar and Chuck will show you to your room.” The Beast told you.

“My… my room?” You asked. “What happened to prisoner?”

“Prisoner?” Another voice chimed in. “Of course not. You’re a guest!”

“J-just um… a guest who won’t leave.” Said a fourth.

You looked down. The candelabra you had picked up earlier was there, standing next to a clock of the same height.

“You… you’re…” You stammered.

“Balthazar.” The candelabra bowed. “Enchanté. And this here is Charles, but we call him Chuck.”

The clock raised a wooden handle like an arm. “Hi.”

So this castle had living furniture. If you hadn’t been held captive by a beast on the same day, you would have freaked out. “Hello…” You responded. “I’m Y/N.”

“Good for you. Get out of my sight.” The Beast grumbled.

“Wh- what the master meant to say was… we’ll show you to your new room now!” Chuck said, his voice wavering nervously. “This way”

The Beast walked up the stairs, the two servants and yourself trailing behind. Balthazar and Chuck struggled a bit to make it up the stairs, but The Beast had no problem, his large strides leaving you behind.

You made it up to the main staircase and the Beast turned left. You started to follow when small metal and wood arms crossed in front of your ankles to stop you.

“That’s the west wing.” Balthazar told you. “It’s forbidden to anyone but the master.”

“What’s in the west wing?” You asked.

The servants shared a look. “Nothing!” Chuck laughed. “Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. No-”

“Charles, shut up.” Balthazar hissed. Chuck did as he was told, and shut up.

The two led you through a hall that must have been lavishly decorated at some point. They stopped at two doors.

“This one’s the cleanest.” Chuck explained.

You hesitantly started to open the door. “Is anything in here… y’know. Alive?”

“Just Crowley.” Balthazar hummed. “Crowley!”

A groan came from a tall, black wardrobe. “I was asleep, you bloody candlestick.” It said in a gruff male voice.

“You’re always asleep.” Balthazar added. “Anyways, this is our new guest: Y/N.”

You looked at Crowley in what you hoped were his eyes. “Ah.” He said.

You sat on the bed. “What do I do now?” You asked.

“We… don’t know.” Chuck sighed. “Gab- The master can be unpredictable.”

“Get some rest for now.” Balthazar told you.

You nodded and those two left the room, leaving you alone with Crowley.

“How did this happen?” You asked. “Surely you weren’t always like this.”

“It’s a long story.” Crowley replied.

“I’m stuck here. I have time.”

“Then it’s a story for later.”

He yawned, and so did you.

“Get some sleep, love.” Crowley murmured. “Take a nap before dinner. Castiel would want to meet you.”

“I won’t sleep.” You thought to yourself as you lay down. “As soon as he’s snoring I’ll escape.”

But your body had other plans. As soon as your eyes closed, you were drifting off.


	5. Taverns and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tries to cheer up his rejected brother. Planning dinner doesn’t work out very well at the castle.
> 
> Warnings: Bi!Dean (if you consider that a warning), arguing

Business at the Roadhouse tavern was like it always was; busy. Dean Winchester sat in his usual fur covered chair, facing the fireplace. His brother brought another round of drinks for the both of them and set them on a table before Dean.

Dean downed another pint. “What’s the point.” He muttered. “I keep pursuing Y/N and every time they shoot me down.”

“So maybe stop pursuing them?” Sam offered.

The older Winchester glared at his brother.

“Look, Dean, it’s not the end of the world. You can get any girl- or guy, for that matter- in town you want!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want anyone else!” Dean huffed. The hunter was too stubborn to let the one that got away go.

“Dean, please. Come on, Benny Lafitte’s single, right?” Sam said.

“I’m not dating someone taller than me.” Dean grumbled.

“What about Jo Harvelle?” Sam offered.

“Talks too much.” Dean scoffed.

“Gadreel? The librarian?”

“He’s a nerd.”

“Becky Rosen?”

“More like clingy.”

“Garth Fitzgerald’s a nice guy.”

“He’s always too happy.”

“Rowena?”

“You’re joking. Why can’t Y/N just like me?” Dean whined.

Sam sighed. “Don’t put yourself down like this, Dean.”

“If I’m not good enough for them, I’m not good enough at all.” Dean concluded, turning his green eyes to the ground and pouting like a child.

Sam sat next to Dean. He looked up at the mantle and the wall behind it. Countless animal heads decorated the tavern but this section? This was all the Winchesters’. Scratch that, it was all Dean’s. All Sam did during hunts was chase the prey for Dean to wear it out before his brother got the final shot, and all the credit. Sam always felt proud of his brother, though there was always a hint of jealousy.

“Everyone here wishes they were you. Your skills, your good looks…” Sam would add ‘your brains’ but his brother wasn’t exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver. “Your reputation…” He added. “Everybody in town either wants to be with you or to be you.”

Dean just grunted as a reply.

“Tell me again how you got that one.” Sam said, pointing to the stuffed head of a bear.

A faint smile crept across Dean’s face. “Took me three whole days. I sprained my ankle in the process, but still managed to catch it.”

A couple people grouped around Dean as he told the tale.

“It got caught in a trap I had laid out by the river, so I caught up to it and BANG!” Dean shouted. “Killed it in one shot.”

Becky, a blonde who was arguably Dean’s biggest fan clapped as he finished the story. Dean gestured for her to come closer, so she did, sitting on the arm of the armchair, leaning towards her crush.

“Oh Dean,” Becky sighed. “You’re sooo manly.”

The elder brother grinned and flexed. “I work out, you know. I bet I could lift Sam.”

“Really?” She gasped.

Sam grimaced. “Please don’t. We’ll take your word for it.”

Dean laughed. “Scared I’m right, Sammy?”

Dean went on telling hunting stories about his prowess. He was skilled, that was true, but his ego and stubbornness often got him in trouble, so Sam was the one who had to pull him out of it. Of course, the favour was never returned.

Sam was always there for his brother. He supported him and helped him with hunts or picking up flings. The thing was, he didn’t have the courage to get in Dean’s way when things got out of hand.

If Sam had Dean’s courage, or Dean had Sam’s intellect, things would probably turn out different for the brothers.

 

* * *

 

A loud knock at your door woke you. You sat up and yawned, surprised for a second by the unfamiliar surroundings. You weren’t home, you remembered.

Your room in this castle had to be the size of your house in the village. The four poster bed was soft and big. The walls were painted elegantly, rather than plain brick. Everything was so much bigger, so much more expensive. Not to mention the wardrobe was alive too.

There was another knock. “Dinner. Now. Join me.” The Beast growled from outside.

“Ask nicely.” Castiel chided.

“And smile!” Balthazar added.

The Beast bared his fangs in what vaguely resembled a smile.

Balthazar winced. “We’ll work on that.”

“Now ask again,” Chuck said. “Nicely.”

The Beast huffed and faced the door again. “Would you join me for dinner?” He asked in a softer, but still demanding voice.

You wanted to scream. “Join you? You treat me like garbage and you want me to eat dinner with you?!” You yelled.

The feathers of the Beast wings bristled, and his chest rose and fell heavily as his breathing quickened.

The servants picked up quickly on his anger. Castiel was the first to try and calm him down. “Easy now-”

The Beast raised his fist and slammed it against the door. “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER AND THAT’S NOT A REQUEST!” He roared.

“NO!” You yelled back, twisting the lock on the door handle and dragging a chair in front of it. You didn’t want to see his ugly face again if you could help it.

“Fine!” The Beast sneered. “GO AHEAD AND STARVE! If you don’t eat with me, you don’t eat at all!”

“Fine!” You replied.

The Beast turned and stormed off down the hall, slashing a wall in anger as he went.

Balthazar looked at his friends. “Staff meeting.”

 

* * *

 

Balthazar stood on the round table, tapping his arm against a glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Hello, everyone.” Balthazar started. “Well, everyone who could be here.”

“I can tell dad!” A teacup piped up.

“Hush, Jack. Later.” Castiel replied.

“So, we have a guest. Someone from the village named Y/N.” Balthazar continued. “As you know, we don’t have a lot of time left. If things work out, Y/N could be the one. We’ll all return to normal.”

“That’s a great plan and all, but what if it doesn’t work?” Charlie, a former maid turned cardinal-shaped feather-duster asked.

“We have to try.” Chuck said.

The group murmured in agreement.

“So, the master has forbidden Y/N to eat dinner with him after his temper tantrum. Of course, we can’t have that.” Balthazar retold. “Gabriel will be asleep in his quarters soon enough. We’ll make a second dinner.”

“Castiel, Jack, bring some tea upstairs for our guest. Tell Y/N and Crowley of the plan. Charlie, tell Lucifer to wait in the dining room. The rest of us will cook and set up.” Chuck gave the orders.

Cas nodded as best as a teapot could nod. “Come along, Jack.”

Jack skipped across the table to join his uncle. “Charlie, tell dad I say hi!”

Charlie smiled. “Will do, kiddo.”

 

* * *

 

“So, can I ask why you’re a wardrobe?” You inquired.

Crowley hummed, thinking. “Suppose the one who cursed us had a sense of humour. I was a tailor.”

“Huh. Interesting.” You replied.

“And you?” Crowley asked. “What do you do?”

“I help- or helped my father with his work.” You explained. “He makes things like clocks and music boxes.”

A tap at the door ended your quiet conversation.

Your voice wavered as you spoke. “Go away.”

“It’s Castiel.” Was the muffled reply.

“The master doesn’t knock that softly.” Crowley chuckled. “Let him in.”

You moved the chair away from your door and unlocked it. When you opened the door, a trolley with a tea set was before you.

“You must be Castiel.” You said, wheeling the cart in.

“I am.” The teapot replied. “This,” He gestured to the teacup beside him “Is Jack.”

“Nice to meet you!” The little cup replied, its painted face grinning. He sounded young. You felt pity for this poor kid. He was probably the only one of his age in this palace.

You smiled. “Nice to meet you too.”

“We’re making you something to eat.” Castiel said.

You frowned. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat.”

“What the great big lummock doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Crowley huffed. “You need to eat, love.”

“You’re not afraid of him?”

The room fell silent.

“No,” Castiel finally spoke. “He has outbursts but he’ll never hurt anyone.”

“I think the person who fears him most is himself.” Crowley mused. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You replied. “He doesn’t scare me. He’s big and he’s cruel, but there’s… something about him. Like an animal lashing out in pain…”

You fell quiet. Could this beast have any emotion apart from anger? Why would these cursed people stand up for him? How did this happen?


	6. Be Our Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dinner you decide to break the number one rule; don’t go into the west wing.
> 
> au where Jack, Lucifer, and Castiel have a healthy familial relationship

[Be Our Guest (video)](https://youtu.be/9qQ__xrUF3Y)

 

You sat yourself down at a long and elegant dining room table. Castiel had ushered you here after some tea, Jack trailing closely behind, his positive attitude brightening up your strange and unpleasant evening.

Crowley had suggested, or rather insisted on a clothing change, claiming that you could use a better outfit. The tailor did have good taste. The clothes you wore were warm and much cleaner than what you previously had on.

Before you on the table was a meal you would only have on a holiday, though Castiel had told you it wasn’t much. A bowl of stew was in the middle, steam rising from it surrounding you with scents of fresh vegetables and herbs. Next to that was a plate of bread, a dish of butter and a knife next to it. In the front was a glass of water and one of wine.

“Our guest of honour!” Balthazar smiled. He walked down the length of the table towards you. “I see you’ve met Cas and Jack.”

You nodded. “So is Jack… his son?”

“Nephew.” A grand piano in the corner corrected. “Castiel is my brother.”

“That’s Lucifer.” Chuck explained.

“I can’t exactly visit my son in the kitchen. As you can see, I’ve grown quite a bit and can’t fit through the door.” Lucifer laughed. “But those two come see me. Cas cares for Jack when I can’t. I mean his mother…”

“Hasn’t been with us for a while.” Jack finished for his father.

Lucifer made a sound like he was clearing his throat, though it was more like a few low keys being played. “Yep.”

You picked up your spoon and started on the stew. It tasted as good as it smelled. When you’d finished a bit, you asked “How long have you been here?”

Chuck thought it over. “To be honest, we’ve lost track of time. The weather doesn’t change. We don’t seem to age, nor does the master. I guess the only way to be certain is to count the fallen p-”

“-pages of a calendar!” Balthazar cut in with an over enthusiastic voice. “Shame we don’t have one. Point is it’s been a long time. Too long.”

“Right…” You muttered, eyeing the candelabra before returning your focus to your meal. “Do you guys eat at all?”

Balthazar shook his head. “No. The master still does though. Some of us sleep, though we don’t need it. There just isn’t a lot else to do here.”

“So you were all human once. Even the beast?” You asked. “How did this happen?”

Nobody answered for a while. Everyone shared glances and unspoken words.

“Sometimes some questions are best left unanswered.” Castiel finally said.

When you’d finished your meal, everyone agreed it was time for you to go to bed. You offered to help clean up, but Chuck assured you it wasn’t necessary.

“Get some sleep,” Castiel instructed. “We can clean up here.”

You sighed. “Okay, okay. Thank you all again. You’re all too kind to me.”

“A little kindness goes a long way.” Charlie chirped, smiling.

Her smile was contagious. You could feel the corners of your mouth turn up.

So you left the dining room. The sun had long since set,  and the lamps along the wall lit your way. You headed up the stairs and to the-

You instinctively reached for the right hand banister, yet you couldn’t help but stop and turn towards the left staircase. Nothing was really stopping you from exploring the west wing. The servants were busy. The beast was nowhere to be seen. Just what was in there that you couldn’t know about? What secrets did this castle hide?

Against the instructions of the enchanted servants, you walked up the stairs to the west wing.

By comparison, the rest of the castle was in perfect condition. With every step you took up the stairs, dust rained down from the ceiling. The hall at the top hall was dark, yet you could still see the faded, peeling wallpaper. The west wing was a mirror image of the east. There were two large doors that were similar to those of the room you were staying in.

Your hand reached up and pulled open one of the doors. The creaking noise reverberated throughout the empty hall. Quickly and quietly, you slipped inside. Only after you entered, it hit you; this was the Beast’s room.

The room was massive, easily the biggest bedroom in the entire castle, illuminated by many candles. Against one wall was an unmade four poster bed. One of its curtains had fallen to the ground and laid in a pool of fabric. Golden and copper feathers were scattered around the floor.

Above the fireplace was an oil painting, destroyed by claw marks. Large scratches covered the face of a man. Carefully, you raised your hand and moved some of the torn canvas back into place.

He appeared to be around your age, and very, very handsome. The man’s face was more curved than angular. His nose was prominent and sharp, the tip of it ended with a faint little divot. His lips were well defined, the top one sticking a little further out in an overbite. Chin length hair that seemed to be a caramel between blonde and brown was slicked back, curls forming at the nape of his neck.

And his eyes… those eyes were familiar. A rare shade of amber. Deep, captivating, and beautiful. But cold and heartless. They seemed identical to that of… the Beast?

“No way…” You couldn’t help but murmur.

As you turned away you could see this room seemed to branch off into another one. This second area was more elevated, surrounded by panes of glass instead of walls and a ceiling. Some was broken, letting snowflakes float down to the ground. An open door lead to a large balcony that overlooked an unkempt garden.

In the middle of this room was a table. On the centre of it was a glass cloche, its surface intricately carved, containing a single rose. Somehow, it stood with nothing to hold it up. A soft light seemed to originate from the red petals. A few of those red petals had fallen and collected at the base, where they had shrivelled up. You could easily count the number that still remained on the stem.

You walked up the couple of steps to see the rose closer. It was magic, no doubt about it. Was a rose worth hiding? Was it worth this much secrecy? You reached your hand out to touch the glass cloche when a thud shook the ground.

The Beast had landed on the balcony, a snarl forming on his face. His wings were spread wide, casting a terrifying shadow. “What are you doing?! You shouldn’t be in here!” He growled as he stormed inside.

Quickly, you stepped away from the rose. The Beast seemed furious, even more sore than when you had refused dinner. Yet his voice wavered with the slightest hint of fear.

“No no no no! What did you do to it?!” The creature demanded, putting his paws on the glass and inspecting the flower.

“N- nothing!” You stammered. “I-”

“Get out.” The Beast growled. He turned you you, those amber eyes filled with anger. “GET OUT!”

You sure as hell didn’t have to be told twice. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, out the room, down the hall, down the stairs.

Charlie flew by you as you approached the main staircase. “Wait, weren’t you going to-”

Ignoring her, you pressed on. The rest of the staff were exiting the dining hall and saw you attempting an escape.

“Wait!” Balthazar pleaded. “Please!”

“He said get out, so I’m getting the fuck out!” You yelled back.

“B-b-but it’s dangerous!” Chuck stuttered.

“Not as dangerous as the beast in here.”


	7. Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You flee for your life but almost lose it. Bobby asks for help. A few questions are answered

The cold stung your skin but you couldn’t care less. You had had enough of being stuck in a castle, enough of servants turned household items, enough of that damn beast!

“Philippe!” You cried as you approached the stables. You pulled the horse onto the path and mounted him, looking back once at the palace before racing off.

Philippe sped through the snowy forest path. The moon was the only thing there to light your way through the darkness.

You could hear your heart beating in your chest when a louder sound made it skip a beat. A howl of a wolf. Still, you pressed on. Your father was at home, yes Bobby had to be there. He needed you and you needed him.

A wolf as white as the snow falling behind it ran out from between the trees. More and more flooded out of the woods until an entire pack was chasing you and Philippe.

A few wolves darted out in front, cutting you off. You tugged the reins, directing your horse to turn onto another path. Philippe’s galloping grew unsteady as he skidden onto a frozen lake. The ice seemed thick enough to hold your weight, but you still felt uneasy being on it.

Something furry knocked you off your horse and onto the ground. As you rushed to get to your feet, the wolf that pushed you off bared its fangs and prepared to pounce. You grabbed a fallen tree branch and swung it just as the canine leaped.

Swinging your makeshift weapon left and right, you did your best to fend off the attackers. It wasn’t working. You were a walking snack, and the wolves just kept on coming.

One of the wolves grabbed the end of the branch in its teeth and pulled it from you. While it had its mouth full, you kicked it as hard as you could. The wolf skidded back a few feet, but the kick had only annoyed it. The wolf regained its balance and got ready to attack. This was it. This was the end.

Another snarl, one deeper than that of the wolves sounded through the forest. In a flash, a large figure tackled the wolf about to kill you.

You had to be hallucinating. But there The Beast was, on all fours, fangs bared, wings spread, and claws unretracted. It threw that wolf against a tree. More leapt at him. One was knocked to the side with a wing, another thrown away with horns. The fight raged before you for a good fThe Beast stood in the centre of the lake, roaring at the pack.

All but one fled into the darkness. One wolf, bigger than the others, still remained behind the Beast’s back. It pounced, digging its teeth into the Beast’s arm.

The Beast roared in pain. He swung his arms, finally grabbing hold of the wolf. He threw it to the ground where it remained, motionless.

Uneven breath visible in the cold air, the Beast looked once more to you, and fell.

This was your chance to go home. The wolves were gone, the Beast couldn’t go after you. You rushed to Philippe, grabbing the reins and-

You stopped. The Beast defended you, saved your damn life, even after you trespassed then fled.

You lead the horse over to the wounded Beast.

“Hey,” You said softly. “Stay awake.”

The Beast huffed, his head rolling to the side. His eyelids drooped.

“Hey!” You repeated. “Come on, I’ve got you. Just stand for me. I’ve got you.”

With the last of his energy, the Beast stood. You helped him mount the horse and started to lead him back to the palace.

 

* * *

 

“Dean!”

The older Winchester brother looked up after his name was called. Bobby Singer stood in the entrance of the Roadhouse tavern. His clothes were wet and dirty, his hair was awry, and his eyes were wild.

“Dean,” Bobby repeated. The craftsman sounded slightly sick. “You have to help me.”

Dean got up from his chair by the fire and sauntered over to your father. “What’s the matter, Bobby? You seem shaken.”

“It’s Y/N.” Bobby explained.

A smirk began to creep its way up Dean’s lips at the mention of your name. All the advice Sam gave him seemed to fly out the window. “Y/N you say?”

Bobby nodded. “I- it’s a long story, but they’re in danger. A beast has my child, Dean! You have to help me!”

The whole pub laughed at the mention of a beast.

“A beast?” Dean asked, his tone mocking. “What kind of beast?”

Ignoring the laughter, Bobby continued. “A big one! Like someone threw a bunch of animals together an- it ain’t funny! I’m serious!”

Dean decided to humour the old man. “Different animal parts?”

Bobby nodded. “Like a chimera. Horns and claws and a tail and wings-”

“How tall was he?”

“I don’t know, seven, maybe even eight feet?” Bobby answered.“Taller than Sam, I swear!”

Laughter continued. Bobby ran up and grabbed Sam’s jacket, his dirt covered hands staining the material. “You have to believe me!”

Sam looked down at the craftsman. “He’s insane. I’ll take care of him.” He grabbed Bobby’s arm and started dragging the weakened man away.

When the got to the door, Dean called out “Stop, Sammy.”

Sam stopped. Dean gestured for him to let go of Bobby, so he did. The hunter walked forward, a devious smile on his face. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. I believe you.”

“You… you do?” Bobby asked.

Dean nodded, dusting off the other man’s jacket. If he went along with Bobby’s wild accusation, there was a chance he’d earn your hand in marriage. “Of course.” Dean lied. He looked over at Sam, then back to Bobby. “Lead us to this beast.”

 

* * *

 

The Beast lay in his bed licked at his wound like a hurt animal. You sat in a chair next you him, dipping a cloth in warm water. “Don’t do that. It’s unsanitary.” You said.

He grumbled but stopped. When you touched the bite mark on his arm, he roared in pain.

“Stay still!” You insisted, throwing your hands in the air after the Beast once again pulled away from you.

“It hurts.” The Beast pouted.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you’d just stay still.” You retorted.

“I wouldn’t be hurt if you hadn’t run away!”

“I wouldn’t have run away if you hadn’t scared me!”

“Well you shouldn’t have been in the west wing!”

“Well you should learn to control your temper!”

You glared at him. After a few seconds, the Beast gave in. He rolled his eyes and moved back to his previous position on the bed. Gently, you dabbed at the bite on his arm with a damp cloth. The fur around it was matted with blood, but it didn’t seem too severe. The bleeding seemed to have stopped.

Sighing, you put the cloth down. “Thank you for saving me.”

The Beast looked back at you. “I should say the same thing to you. So… thanks, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t leave you there to die in the cold. Though I’m sure all that fur keeps you warm enough.”

He chuckled. The sound was so unfamiliar but so refreshing. “I guess so. First time thought about this curse in a positive light.”

“Curse?” You inquired.

The Beast was silent again. It was clear he wouldn’t talk about this any time soon.

You got up, pulling the blanket back over him. “Get some rest-”

“Gabriel.” The Beast spoke up. “My name is Gabriel.”

You smiled a little, glad he was opening up to you, even if it was just a little. “Get some rest, Gabriel.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillows.

You got up and walked out of his room. Balthazar, Chuck, Charlie, Castiel, and Jack were waiting outside anxiously.

“How is he?” Charlie asked.

“He’s alright,” You answered. “Just needs some sleep.”

The servants all sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Castiel said.

As you walked down the stairs with them, more questions came to your mind. “Why do you stay here with him? Why were you cursed too? You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the thing,” Balthazar agreed. “We didn’t.”

“The old king was a cruel man. He manipulated the master into becoming just like him once his mother died. And we let him.” Chuck explained.

“His curse is our curse too.” Castiel explained. “It is only fair we be punished as well.”

You nodded. “So, what did you all do before that?”


	8. Days in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pasts of Gabriel and his servants are told

[Days in the Sun video](https://youtu.be/deVaBYbP3WY)

 

Kelly Kline didn’t live to see her son. All those conversations of raising a child together and she never even got to hold her first born. It broke Lucifer’s heart.

Their son was named after Kelly’s father. That was chosen name if the baby was a boy. Jack Kline Novak, Kelly’s last name as Jack’s middle to honour her.

Lucifer did his best to raise his son alone. He used his talent of playing the piano to entertain at parties and events, earning just enough to get by. He even taught little Jack how to play, his son sitting on his lap, little toddler hands pressing the keys at random, creating beautiful musical chaos. It reminded Lucifer of how he and Kelly would sit side by side to play duets.

It was the day when his brother came to visit that Lucifer’s life changed.

Castiel Novak, Lucifer’s younger brother, sharing his blue eyes but with dark hair in contrast to his blonde. He worked as the head chef at the royal palace, a tall and impressive building about an hour’s ride from Lucifer’s village. Lucifer was a little jealous of his younger sibling’s success.

“You could work for the prince too.” Castiel suggested. “He entertains guests often. I could get you a position working for him, playing music at parties.”

“But Jack-”

“Jack could come with you. You can live in your own quarters. Some other servants can help you raise him.” Castiel assured. “When he gets old enough, I’m sure he could get a job of his own too, earn a little more.”

Lucifer looked at his son, sleeping on a mattress on the floor of the room the two shared. Jack deserved better than this. Lucifer accepted the offer, and thanked his brother.

 

* * *

 

 

Crowley couldn’t remember his mother. Not in the way that you can’t remember the face of a stranger you met once, or the way you can’t tell if something was a memory or a dream. He just couldn’t remember her.

Fergus knew his father left them before he was born. He knew his mother raised him, but every time he tried to picture her face, it would just become a blur. No face, no voice, no name. He woke up one morning when he was younger, alone. It was like waking from a dream.

Maybe that’s all she was.

The name Crowley seemed foreign on his tongue. Fergus Crowley. It seemed off, like his last name was an alias. But he was always Crowley, right? Your last name doesn’t change at random.

Still, the name Crowley soon earned a reputation. Fergus would shine shoes to earn enough money to get him by. One day, when Crowley was just in his teens, a tailor showed up at his stand. Fergus muttered something under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?” The tailor asked.

Crowley looked up at him, his face growing red. “I said those shoes don’t match your outfit. They’re far too casual.”

The tailor chuckled in amusement. “Perhaps you’re right.” The man stood, handing the boy some money. “Perhaps if you stop by my shop later, you could show me a better pair.”

So Crowley went to the tailor’s. It was a whole new world for him. The tailor saw the boy’s eyes widen at the sight of the fabric, the pins, the thread, and offered him an apprenticeship.

So a new life began. Fergus had an eye for fashion. He could design, make, and mend clothes like nobody else. He soon took over for the tailor when the older man retired.

Crowley never forgot where he came from though. He’d use leftover scraps to repair the clothes of people who couldn’t afford new ones, often for free, though some insisted they give him what little money they could spare.

Fergus Crowley’s career flourished in his village, until one day he had a special request. A letter from the prince (though not directly from the prince, just written by one of his servants by the name of Charles) arrived. It said that a guest at a recent ball had been wearing something Crowley made. The prince Gabriel wanted an outfit too, only better. The opportunity, and the reward, were too much to refuse.

After more and more requests for increasingly intricate outfits, Crowley sold the shop and moved to the palace to work full time as the prince’s personal tailor.

 

* * *

 

Charlie Middleton and Balthazar Bradbury had known each other since they were children. The two were best friends- and in an arranged marriage. Both loved each other, that was true, but not in the way their parents wanted them to. Neither wanted the marriage, but neither had the courage to refuse it.

Balthazar took his fiance up on a hill to watch the sun set. The two sat side by side as they watched the colours of the sky change.

“So…” Charlie muttered. “Wedding’s soon…”

“Indeed it is,” Balthazar replied. “Mr and Mrs Bradbury…”

They sat in an awkward silence for a bit before Balthazar spoke again, “I don’t want to marry you.”

“What?” Charlie asked.

“I’m sorry! You’re a lovely woman, and my best friend, but- but I can’t see you as anything else but a friend,” Balthazar explained.

“Oh thank god!” Charlie sighed with relief. “I didn’t want to marry you either.”

“You don’t?”

“No! I… I like girls!”

“That’s okay! I like men!” Balthazar replied. “And women. I like both.”

The pair fell into a fit of laughter, glad to have their feelings off their chests and glad the other felt the same.

“So friends?” Charlie asked.

“Friends.” Balthazar agreed. “I don’t think our families will take no for an answer though.”

“Well, we could get married for them, and… be open to other relationships?” Charlie suggested.

Her fiance smiled. “Agreed. Hell, we could even move to a place where nobody knows we’re us and just… live our lives. What do you say?”

“I’m in.”

 

 

* * *

 

The Shurleys had worked for the royal family for five generations. They always held high positions in the castle, advising, planning, organizing, and a great deal more.

Charles was three years older than the prince, though the pressure put on him by his family to succeed and continue tradition forced early maturity on the boy.

Gabriel and Charles, though the prince called him Chuck, grew close. The two would get into trouble together quite a lot. Sneaking into the kitchen to steal sweets, running around in the garden and getting messy, making book forts in the library.

Gabriel’s mother thought it was sweet that her son had a best friend. Gabriel’s father did not. The man was strict, cold and power hungry. Mercy was weak. Friendship was weak. Love was weak. Weakness was unacceptable.

Gabriel was ten when the queen got very, very sick. She spent all day in bed, growing paler and weaker each day. Gabriel never left her side, so by default, Chuck never left his.

“She’ll get better, right?” Gabriel asked his friend with a whisper, looking over at his mother.

Chuck’s words were stuck in his throat. “I don’t know…”

The doors to the queen’s chambers slammed open. “Out,” the king growled, advancing towards the Chuck. The boy quickly nodded and, after one last glance back at Gabriel, he rushed out.

“Asmodeus, he’s just a boy-” Gabriel’s mother feebly protested.

“He’s a servant,” Asmodeus growled. “You hear that boy?” He asked Gabriel.

“But- but he’s my friend!”

“He’s not your friend,” the king spat. “You’re royalty, royalty don’t make “friends” with peasants.”

Gabriel nodded, amber eyes glancing back at the door his friend- his servant left through.

Days passed. The queen’s health got worse.

“Gabriel,” she whispered. “Step closer.”

The prince did as he was asked.

His mother’s skin was white as snow, her voice as faint as a breeze. Shakily, she lifted a bony hand and held out a book to her son. Brown leather with a rose painted on the front and the hand-painted words ‘The Sonnets of Shakespeare’. “This is for you. Read it and think of me.”

“But you’re going to get better!” Gabriel protested. “You can read it to me!”

“I’m sorry, Gabe,” the queen replied. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“Mother?”

She was silent. Her amber eyes looked at him and saw nothing.

“Mother!”

Asmodeus firmly put his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “It’s time to go. Let the servants take care of this.”

“No!” Gabriel screamed. He tried to pull away from his father’s grasp and move to his mother’s bedside. “Let me say goodbye! Let me tell her I love her!”

“It’s too late for that.”

“No it’s n-”

The king struck Gabriel across the face and the prince went silent with a whimper. Gone was anyone who could get in the way of Asmodeus’ rage. “You listen to me, boy. Your mother is dead. She isn’t coming back.”

The blow on his cheek stung, but Gabriel’s heart ached even more. It was broken, and all the love had been drained from it. The prince’s heart became like ice, and the prince became like the king. He didn’t love anymore. Love was weak. Weakness was unacceptable.


End file.
